The Richest Man on Welfare

"It's free.  I have Medicaid." 

I used to think the symbol of all that was wrong with the world today was the Deep Fried Twinkie.  Talk about overindulgence.  I mean, who would’ve thought you could make something unhealthier than a Twinkie?

Fourthmeal by Taco Bell eventually came along and dethroned the Twinkie, but that's a topic for another post.

If the Deep Fried Twinkie and Fourthmeal are top contenders, the guy I'm going to tell you about gets a Lifetime Achievement Award.

Leroy Fick, a food stamps recipient, won a $2 Million lump sum payment in a Michigan lottery.  (I’m not even going to touch the issue of people on food stamps playing the lottery.)  Even though Fick has his millions in hand, he continues to use his state-issued food stamps card. 

How is this possible, you ask?  Here’s a quote from the article:

"Department spokeswoman Gisgie Gendreau said that, under federal guidelines, if a person receives a lump-sum payment, the winnings are not counted as income. The money is considered income if the person receives regular, ongoing payments.”

The article focused on the fact that Fick refuses to feel guilty for using his entitlements, despite being a millionaire. 


While Fick is a world-class dirt bag, he is far from the only person in this country who would take advantage of such a situation.  In my 11 years as a Firefighter, I've come across dozens of people who have made milking the system a way of life.

Years ago, while working in Tucson as a Firefighter/Paramedic, we encountered a disciple of Fick’s philosophy.  At 1 a.m. we were called to a house for a woman who had been sick for three days.  I’m not talking Cardiac-Patient-Sick or Unbearable-Abdominal-Pain-Deathbed-Sick.  She was I’m-Tired-Of-Having-This-Virus-Sick.

We show up and the woman meets us at the door with her purse and keys.  She's ready to go.  The conversation that follows goes like this: (I’ve placed parenthesis around the comments we wished we could make, but didn’t actually say.)

Us: What’s the emergency, Ma’am?

Her: I just need a ride to the hospital

Us: What’s the problem?

Her: I’ve been sick for three days.

(So why couldn't you call at 1:00 in the afternoon instead of 1:00 in the morning?)
Us: Have you seen your doctor?

Her: No.

Us: Maybe you could go to the clinic.

Her: They’re not open.  I have to go to the Emergency Room.

(Oh, I see.  You have to go to the ER.  In that case…)

Us: Can you drive yourself in?

Her: No.  I don’t want to pay for the gas.  It’s so expensive.

(As opposed to the ambulance ride which will cost taxpayers a measly $750.  Not to mention depriving this part of the city of speedy ambulance response times for the next hour and a half.)
Us: Is there someone else that can give you a ride?

Her: Yeah, but it’s pretty late.  I don’t want to wake anyone up.

Us: How about a taxi?

Her: They always want cash.  I don’t have to pay the ambulance.

Us: The ambulance isn’t free either, Ma’am.

Her: Yes it is.  I have Medicaid.

(So you’d rather have the rest of us pay $1500 for your sniffles than spend $5 in gas to drive yourself to the free clinic?)

At this point we realized we were dealing with a Master Looter.  We were clearly out of our league.  She got her $750 taxi ride in an ambulance. 

Yeah, it's from the UK, but you get the idea.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm happy to help someone in need.  We get "I've fallen and I can't get up" calls all the time, and they can be extremely satisfying.  But most people only call us when it's necessary.  When no one else can help them.  And most importantly, they say 'Thank you'.  It's not that I want a medal for doing my job, but gratitude is a sign that someone appreciates the emergency services our society provides as opposed to expecting the collective 'THEM' to provide for their whims.

Politics aside, listen to these two short interviews regarding where the money comes from:

It's Obama money!

That's right, a portion of the thousands of dollars you pay in Federal taxes each year goes to people with no concept of gratitude and who care nothing for your work and toil.  Looters. 

The next time you wonder why a simple ER visit costs you or your insurance a thousand bucks, think of the Looters who use the ER as their personal clinic and 911 as their personal limo service.  (Come back next week for my rant on The Looters.)  The next time you're tempted to see how much Uncle Sam took out of your paycheck, I recommend just being thankful you have a paycheck.


There is a scourge sweeping across our great country and across the world.  Call it selfishness, indifference, or a Gimme attitude, it is more prevalent than we realize.

So to you, Richest Man on Welfare, I salute you as a World-Class Looter.  We, the hard-working tax payers, are glad to pick up your lunch tab. 

After all, it's just Obama money.

Coincidence or Providence?

"YOU'RE A SMART ONE, BERNICE."


"Engine 7, Medic 7, respond on a stroke.  83-year-old female, unable to speak, severe facial droop."

It was almost a daily dispatch at Tucson Fire Station 7.  But when we arrived on scene and I saw my old friend Bernice Clemens sitting alone in a chair I immediately wondered, "Coincidence or Providence?" 

Sure enough, Bernice was suffering from a stroke.  Though she couldn't speak or even nod, Bernice kept her eyes on me the whole time.

Call it serendipity, divine intervention, or pure dumb luck, but there are times when things just seem to work out.  I'm not talking about the stroke itself, but the fact that I was able to be there to help an old, old friend.

You might say that I was bound to run into someone I knew eventually.  Even in a city of 500,000.  It wasn't the first time I'd seen friends on medical calls.  I'd bandaged, started IV's, given medications and transported a few acquaintances over the years.  I had basically done the same thing any other paramedic would have done.

But stroke calls are a little different.  Though the situation is extremely critical, once the patient is on oxygen and has an IV, the paramedic either initiates a one-way conversation or works on paperwork during the drive to the hospital.

Within minutes Bernice was on high-flow oxygen, had an IV and was sitting in the back of the ambulance with me.  And for one of the first times in my short career, I can honestly say I did something no other paramedic could have.  I held Bernice's hand and talked about old times.

Bernice showed no signs of recognition, but she watched me closely as I reminisced about the time my wife invited her and another widow, Bennie, over for dinner.  At one point Bernice had made a cheeky remark and her tiny friend Bennie smacked her lips and said, "Oh, Bernice!  You're a smart one."

As we rode to the hospital, I told her where Wifey and I had moved to.  How old our girls were and some of the funny things they said.  How much I loved being a firefighter.  And I'm lying if I say my eyes didn't tear up when I told her how special she was to Wifey and I when we were newlyweds.

To this day I have no idea if Bernice understood a single word.  But there is no experience I've had in 11 years of firefighting that I would trade for the opportunity to spend 10 minutes with my friend Bernice Clemens that day.

So I ask you: Coincidence or Providence?  A striking occurrence of two events apparently by mere chance?  Or the foreseeing care and guidance of God over the creatures of the earth.

You can decide for yourself, but personally I agree with Morpheus from The Matrix.  I do not see coincidence, I see providence.  I see purpose.

Obviously I can't prove it one way or another, but I still thank God for the chance to work at Station 7 that day.